


and the windmill keeps on turning

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [39]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, F/M, aka Dean and Claire banging against the side of a tiny blue windmill, ep 10x20, it really didn't turn out as funny as you might think though, the put put golf scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her eyes were wide but her hands were steady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the windmill keeps on turning

Long blond hair is soft beneath his fingers and it smells fruity like peaches and some girly shit, her breathless little gasps against his lips turning into a whine as he grinds against her and he’s a little tall, his hard cock under his jeans pressing against the soft of her belly. One hand’s braced by her head against the pastel blue of a tiny windmill and the other hand’s gripped onto her hip. Delicate hands that are a hell of a lot stronger than they look wrap around his biceps, squeezing and pulling him closer.

_He snuck the beer in under his jacket and the bulge of it was pretty obvious but it was late and the guy that had disinterestedly taken his money and passed over little putters didn’t give a single shit. He held out on Claire for a while, sure it was her birthday and sure Dean had had plenty of drinks underage himself, but it wasn’t really his place. Right. Wasn’t really his place to say that yeah he was okay with it but he couldn’t because of Cas. Only it wasn’t really Cas’ place either. He was tryin’ to do good but it was a losing battle._

Her nails were sharp, pushing up under his shirt and dragging against his sides, over his ribs, little stinging trails left behind as she scratched around his back and down his spine, scratch scratch, gonna leave her own mark. She bit at his lip, and his eyes were open as they kissed, watching her wide eyes lined in black and shining just a little. He pushed her harder so she pushed back, drawing his lip in through her teeth and biting vicious. He grabbed her hips and slammed her back, a growl thrumming low in his throat, behind his teeth, metallic taste in his mouth his own blood where her teeth had sunk in to him. Her eyes were wide but her hands were steady.

_He caved. A beer or two wasn’t really much, and she’d probably had more than that already anyway. They drank a little and played golf and it was really kind of ridiculous cause Cas and Sam were off somewhere fighting a big bad monster and they’d left Dean behind to babysit cause he was a monster too, a little too big and a little too bad so was it really a good idea to leave him here with little red riding hood. Nah. Nah, Claire had a black jacket, one of those ‘look at what a badass I am’ black leather jackets that you wore like a badge. Yeah Dean knew about leather jackets, he’d worn his daddy’s for years. Hers looked new, maybe she’d shop lifted it somewhere, and it was tight around the winding curves of her young body._

Dean smiled against her lips, tongue flicking along the split in his lip that was bleeding just a little, and his hands moved down to the waist of her jeans. He could feel the heavy rise of fall of her chest against him, pressed together, body heat leeching through cotton. The whumph whumph of the little windmill was a steady rhythm to rock his hips to, grinding against her as he got her pants open. Her tiny nails stopped scratching against him, moving up to curl around his shoulders, to grip in his hair as he sank to his knees. Hey it was her birthday after all, he’d show her a good time.

_They played a few rounds, sank a few holes, drank a few beers, and Dean was having really inappropriate thoughts about holes that didn’t have anything to do with put put golf. Cas was right, he was getting worse and it wasn’t just his appetite for violence. He’d been starving himself so long trying to hold it off, trying to be good, eat less, lay off the drinking, like a fucking monk he’s been and god he’s so starved. For anything, for everything, for those sweet blue eyes sliding sideways to watch him when he bends over to get the ball out of the hole and there are those bad thoughts again. She looks at him, tucks her hair behind her ear, curves her back more than she needs to when she plays and it’s the same kind of script he’s played in so many bars across the states._

She’s so fucking hot between her legs, jeans and panties pulled down mid thigh, smells so good and it’s blond down here too. He nudges his broad shoulders between her legs, puts his big hands on her wide hips and pulls so she leans away from the windmill, spreads her legs out far as they can with jeans around her thighs, far enough to press his face between her legs and lap at the slick wetness there, nudge his nose into the pink folds of her sweet body and taste her. And fuck if she’s pretty she tastes even better, sharp earth tang on his tongue and she’s so wet against his cheeks as he digs in, pushes deeper, laps up everything she has to offer with soft firm thighs brushing his cheeks, fingers pushing through his hair scratching, scratching.

_He gave her more beer, she’d need it, he knew this song and dance already, knew how this was going to go down. And he knew she wanted it too but there are more holes to lube that what you stuck your dick in, a few good swallows of liquid courage could go a long way, so he let her have more of the beers, dumping the empty cans in the bushes as they played. Her pale cheeks blushed so pretty and she licked the beer off her lips till it was gone and then she kept licking as she watched him watching her. Dainty hands around her putter sliding suggestively and yeah, she knew what she was doing, what she wanted._

Strong thighs squeezed against his head and trembled as she shook apart underneath him, fresh wet just coming and coming as her muscles fluttered and he kept on going lapping it all up and teasing her with his teeth, tugging on plump slick pink lips and sucking on her clit, kept going until her hands were pulling him back. She was leaning back against the windmill heaving, eyes wild and lips parted, hair all messed up from his hands pushing through it, whumph whumph of the windmill behind her. She looked at him and asked if he had a condom, still on his knees licking her taste off his lips, and oh he always did. Rising up, pulling out his wallet and pulling out a condom, pulling out his cock and rolling it on, he licked his lips and told her to turn around.

_What happened to this sweet little girl somewhere along the way, good little girl from a good little family got mixed up in all the shit Dean had known his whole life. And he could still remember her little girl body so small in a dirty warehouse moving with all the stiff barely contained power of an angel, Castiel shield of God, her tiny tiny hands and expressionless face holding her father bleeding out and begging and she’d never be a little girl after that, she’d never be a good girl anymore and Dean knew it then and he knows it now. He’s not a good guy. Hasn’t been for a while and it’s not just the scar on his arm that makes it so, nah. He lost the good little boy part of him a long time ago too and whatever it is Sam and Cas think they’re gonna get back if they can get rid of this scar, Dean doesn’t think it’s there anymore._

She turns around, hands braced on the side of the little blue windmill, hips pushed out and legs as wide as she can with her jeans around her thighs but it’s best they keep as much on as they can in case they need a quick getaway cause the windmill and the bushes aren’t really the best cover. He has to lean over her, stoop down, brace an arm against the side of the windmill and a hand on her hip to pull her up a little as he pushes in to her. He doubts she’s really new to this but god is she tight and he slides in so easy to the relaxed wet clutch of her body. She can’t keep quiet, so he slides a hand around her face and holds against her plump lips, fingers curled tight into her cheeks, holds her and pulls her back as he finds his rhythm and fucks into her. Soft blond hair smells fruity like peaches and he’s just so hungry.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Garage and Gazebo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953024) by [dirtybadwrong (MarcelinesNightosphere)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcelinesNightosphere/pseuds/dirtybadwrong)




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